107 lines
6.9 KiB
Plaintext
107 lines
6.9 KiB
Plaintext
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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Family Trip
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I told them not to take me on this stupid trip. I warned them over
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and over. Now they must pay the price, I will get my revenge.
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It began a week ago. My parents joyfully declared that we were going
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to spend three weeks together as a family high in the beautiful Colorado
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Mountains. I asked, reasoned, and begged them not to take me. I hated the
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majesty of the wilderness, and I hated being with my family. No, they would
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not listen to me, so it was inevitable. Damn.
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We started the little trip from hell bright and early one morning
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around six a.m. I was roused from my warm bed and forced into a crowded Ram
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Charger with my mother, father, and two little siblings age ten and six.
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Little brother began this wondrous sojourn by imediately starting to rant
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about how bored he was. Little sister promptly took the opportunity to steal
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my slepping spot on the seats and throw my CD discman into the backseat,
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breaking the lid off. Before I could even throw her out of the moving car my
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mother jumped in to defend her by stating that she "was just a little kid"
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and "she didn't mean it". So apparently my only source of music was to go
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unavenged because of age.
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I managed to go to sleep for a grand total of an hour before being
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awakened by my little brother poking me in the ribs asking me if I could name
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all the presidents who were shot and killed. He had asked everyone in the
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family this since we saw a documetary on it a week ago. All of us had seen
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it, but I guess he didn't believe that we could have retained the information
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for over a week. I politely told him to go and fuck all of the dead
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presidents and if he ever asked me that again, I would arrange for him to
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meet all of the presidents who had been shot. It took all of two seconds for
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my parents to assume that I was in the wrong and start bitching about me not
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being polite enough to my sibling units. "He looks up to you" "He loves you,
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and just wants to be friends with you because you are older." Same shit I
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always hear because my little brother can't ever be bad. Anyway, I got to
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hear that all the way out of Texas and into New Mexico.
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After thirteen hours on the road with the Mutant Family From Hell we
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arrived in Colorado. Good old dad backed our pop-up camper into the spot at
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Jellystone National Park (No shit, it exists. Jellystone!). He was proud
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that we got this spot because Loretta Lynn had camped there once. I got
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saddled with the kids so I could take them to see Yogi and go on the "Hey Hey
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Hey Ride with Yogi Bear" My little brother took the opportunity to say hello
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to whoever was in the Yogi costume and then punch him in the nose. I had to
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spend the next fifteen minutes apologizing to Yogi and his parents to keep us
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from getting kicked out of the park. Of course, the parental units didn't
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believe that innocent little Paul could have hit Yogi, so he got off
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scott-free.
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Over the course of the next few days the parental units dragged us
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all over the area. I got to see the Royal Gorge, Pike's Peak, and about
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a million other incredibly boring things. Somehow my sister managed to spill
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a drink on me at ever stop. When we went rafting, my little brother hit me
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in the face with a paddle and knocked me over the edge of the raft and into
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the rapids. Yeah, all the fun my father promised me was just oozing out of
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the bruise on my forehead.
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I spent the next week sharing a tent with my brother who just to
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make things fun proceeded to snore and wet the bed. My little sister
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woke me up by dropping her hot chocolate into my face through the top of the
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tent. Little bitch can't ever hold onto a drink.
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Last week of the three week vacation and I can't take it any longer.
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Now I'm going to have a little version of fun that dad didn't plan into our
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agenda. I went through his bag and found what I was looking for. My dad's
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commerative 1911 Colt .45. Never been fired because it is a commerative gun.
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Ha! My dad has a cow any time someone even touches it, but still he keeps a
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clip full of bullets in it. Sometimes he just refuses to make sense.
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I grabbed the gun, racked a shell into the chamber and walked outside.
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As I stepped out of the camper my little sister dropped my last Coke. That
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was it. I grabbed her by the hair and carried her into the camper. I
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proceeded to cover her face with a pillow and blew her head off. After that
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I found my mother lying out tanning her cellulite.
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"Having fun Mikey?"
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"Yeah" boomboomboom. "Lots of fun."
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I discovered little bro out in a little grove of trees thumbing
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through some of dad's porno magazines. I shot him in his little hard-on
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and walked on.
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Dad took two bullets in the face, permanently wiping that stupid fun
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grin off of his skull and planting it next to a tree.
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I went back to the camper and turned the gas on full blast, then
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tossed in a match. I bet Loretta Lynn didn't brighten this place up that
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much when she was here.
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So now I get to spend lots of time here in this nice hospital,
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medicated up to my eyes. I suppose in several years I could get out if I
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wanted to, but next week the activity planners are going to take us up to
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Colorado for an outing. I can't wait.
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Moral: Don't ever go on long trips with your family. Family sucks.
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-fastjack
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= Questions, comments, bitches, ideas, etc : z3mar@ttacs.ttu.edu : FUCK =
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= Official F.U.C.K. Distribution sites and information =
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= Board Number Other =
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= ----- ------ ----- =
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= Immortal Hate 806.745.8879 World HQ =
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= Ionic Destruction 215.722.0570 Eastern HQ =
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= PcI 806.794.1438 NUP: ORWELL WAS RIGHT =
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= Purple Hell 806.791.0747 Dist. =
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= Accounts NOT guaranteed on any F.U.C.K. distribution site. If you are =
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= interested in writing for, or in becoming a distribution site for =
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= F.U.C.K. call Immortal Hate, and apply for an account, or mail Dam =
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= at z3mar@ttacs.ttu.edu or on Immortal Hate. Knowledge is power... =
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